By Rev. Todd R. Lattig
Read Revelation 1:12–18
ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Jesus replied, ‘You are blessed, Simon son of John, because my Father in heaven has revealed this to you. You did not learn this from any human being. Now I say to you that you are Peter (which means ‘rock’), and upon this rock I will build my church, and all the powers of hell will not conquer it. And I will give you the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven. Whatever you forbid on earth will be forbidden in heaven, and whatever you permit on earth will be permitted in heaven.’” (Matthew 16:17–19 NLT)
Symbols carry memory and meaning far beyond words. The Church has always leaned on them—sometimes hidden in plain sight, sometimes dismissed or distorted. Yet the most powerful symbols are those that subvert the world’s expectations and draw us back to the radical heart of the Gospel. In this series, we’ll look closer at the sacred signs that shock, unsettle, and ultimately call us deeper into Christ.
Part 18: Keys. Symbols do more than speak — they open doors. They hold memory, meaning, authority, and access. Few symbols in Scripture carry as much weight as keys. Keys determine who enters and who stays outside, what is revealed and what is concealed. The Church has long treated “keys” as symbols of control, but Jesus used them as tools of liberation.
When John turned and saw the Risen Christ blazing like the sun, one declaration shattered Rome’s illusion of power: “I hold the keys of death and the grave.” In a world where empire claimed authority over life and death, Jesus announces that the locks Rome depends on are already broken. Death itself can no longer keep anyone in—or out.
Keys were symbols of authority in the ancient world—held by those who controlled access, privilege, belonging. But keys also hide things: vaults, prisons, secret rooms, places sealed away. Keys are used to lock down what people want contained. And just as often, keys signal who is allowed close and who must remain outside.
But when Jesus speaks of keys, the metaphor turns inside out. He isn’t using keys to protect a throne. He’s using them to undo the locks that fear, shame, religion, and empire have placed on human lives.
In Revelation, Christ holds the keys of death—not to guard the realm of the dead, but to break it open. In Matthew, when he gives Peter “the keys of the Kingdom,” he is not delegating gatekeeping. He is delegating liberation. And notice the scandal in that scripture moment: Jesus does not hand those keys to a ruler, a priest, or a man with status. He places them in the hands of a fisherman—an ordinary, inconsistent, deeply flawed human being.
That very act unlocks the door of privilege itself. It reveals that the kingdom is not a palace for insiders, but a home thrown open for those shut out by religion or empire.
And here is the subversive twist: keys reveal us. We lock away what we fear.We seal off what we don’t want exposed.
And the Church has often treated the gospel the same way. We’ve used “keys” to control who belongs. We’ve locked people out to protect our comfort, our respectability, our preferences. We’ve acted as if grace required our permission to move.
But the Christ who holds the keys of death is the same Christ who opens doors no one can close—including the doors the Church deadbolts out of fear.
Where does this press in today? It looks like unlocking forgiveness where resentment has taken root. It looks like opening space at the table for someone whose presence unsettles our comfort. It looks like refusing to lock people into their past. It looks like letting the Spirit open what fear has sealed.
In the end, the only keys Christ trusts us with are the ones that open what fear has closed, unlock what hatred has chained, and free those empire calls unworthy.
THOUGHT OF THE DAY
The keys of Christ never lock people out—they always set people free.PRAYER
Christ who holds the keys, unlock the places we have sealed with fear. Break open every door we keep shut in the name of comfort or control. Teach us to use our keys the way you do—to open, reveal, and release. Make us stewards of liberation, not gatekeepers of grace. Amen.
Devotion written by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of ChatGPT (OpenAI).